


Last Resort of the Prodigal Son

by AniDragon



Series: World State 08 [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian is channeling Miranda Lawson, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5058094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniDragon/pseuds/AniDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Dorian ran from home, as he's getting ready to follow Alexius to the south, he discovers that his parents have managed to have another child. Not wanting his new brother to go through the same things he did, Dorian takes matters into his own hands, stealing him away and bringing him along on his journey south, and eventually to the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Elthadriel for Beta-reading!

“You will unhand that child _immediately_!” A voice rang out, catching The Iron Bull’s attention.

“I beg your pardon?” The second voice was the pretty ‘Vint mage the boss had picked up in Redcliffe, and Bull was curious enough to investigate further.

He turned a corner to see the ‘Vint – Dorian, he recalled his name was – holding a swaddled bundle Bull assumed, from context, was a baby. There was an Elven woman next to him, keeping close, while a Chantry clerk Bull didn’t recognise yelled at him.

“While you may have fooled our Herald into thinking you were trustworthy,” the clerk continued, oblivious to Bull’s presence, “I will not have a Tevinter Magister corrupting our children!”

“This isn’t what you–” Dorian began to protest.

“Oh, I’m sure you have this poor mother convinced that you have the most innocent of intentions with her child,” The clerk interrupted, “But I know better!”

“She isn’t–”

“What is it, then? Were you hoping to bring the child back to Tevinter to become a slave? Or perhaps you needed an easy victim for a blood magic ritual?”

Dorian’s expression quickly changed from annoyed to a dark anger that made Bull’s blood run cold. Before things could escalate further, Bull stepped into everyone’s line of sight.

“The fuck is going on, here?” He demanded.

Three pairs of eyes turned to him, and while the elf and humans dealt with their surprise, Bull assessed the scene in front of him.

Even at first glance, it was obvious that the clerk had completely misread the situation. The Elven woman clearly trusted Dorian, was sticking close to him no matter what accusations were thrown his way. If she had been just a refugee or pilgrim who’d happen to let the charming man hold her child, she’d have been looking far more suspicious of him. And while appearances weren’t everything, she had the dark tan skin of a ‘Vint, herself.

On top of that, Dorian was holding the baby _protectively_ , to the point where Bull had to wonder if the child was his own. A bastard, perhaps? Was the elf a mistress or slave he’d impregnated and run away with? Or maybe she wasn’t the mother at all. She could have been a caretaker or nursemaid tasked with watching the child while Dorian was out risking his neck.

Whether the child was Dorian’s, or the Elf’s, or both of theirs didn’t matter, though. The most obvious details pointed to the fact that Dorian wasn’t a threat to the baby.

The clerk, unfortunately, recovered from his shock first. “This is hardly the business of a mercenary oxman.”

“It is when you’re being loud and annoying,” he said bluntly, then turned to Dorian. “Now. How about you explain your side, and I’ll keep this guy from interrupting you?”

To say that Dorian was surprised was an understatement. His mouth was hanging open, and he seemed at a loss for words, something Bull suspected didn’t happen often.

Bull sighed, then glanced at the elf, who nodded and stood forward. “The babe isn’t mine, ser,” she explained, her Tevinter accent thick. “I’m the boy’s nursemaid. Dorian sent me ahead to Haven, because he knew Redcliffe wasn’t going to stay safe.”

He nodded, then turned back to Dorian. “So that’s your own kid, then?”

The mage gave a small shake of his head. “No... Well, not quite. I _am_ responsible for him, though. He’s my younger brother.”

While that brought up more questions that Bull would eventually want answers to, it was enough for now. He turned to the clerk and loomed threateningly. “Satisfied?”

The man backed up a pace, not quite meeting Bull’s eye. “I... The Herald should hear about this.”

“By all means!” Dorian said, his mask of arrogance back up. “I should like to introduce them!”

The clerk scrambled away, and it was only once he was out of earshot that Dorian dropped his defences. “Thank you. Iron Bull, wasn’t it?”

“ _The_ Iron Bull, yeah,” he corrected.

Dorian nodded. “Well, you know me already. My brother is Galen Pavus, and his nurse is Shyilia.”

“You three okay?”

Dorian peaked down into the bundle of blankets in his arms and smiled fondly. “Well, he somehow managed to sleep through that whole thing, so I think we’ll be fine.”

Bull nodded. “Want me to stick around until the boss gets here? In case that asshole comes back?”

“I don’t...” Dorian started, but then he glanced at Shyilia, who was wringing her hands anxiously. “Well. Perhaps it’s best if you stay for a bit.”

Bull nodded, leaning up against the wall to the apothecary while they waited. Dorian held Galen close, betraying his nerves from the earlier encounter.

When the baby woke and began to cry, Shyilia took over to feed him. Bull watched for a moment, then broached a subject he’d been wondering about. “Shyilia, can I ask you a bit of a blunt question?”

“You want to know if I’m a slave.”

Dorian winced, which was answer enough. Still... “Well?”

“If you want to get technical, I _was_ a slave for House Pavus,” she answered. “But that status has little meaning outside of Tevinter.”

“You’re not getting paid, though.”

“Dorian hasn’t any money to pay me _with_. We left Tevinter with very little. He’s done what he can to provide for us.”

Bull finally looked at Dorian. “You realize that’s not going to go over well with the boss, right?”

“Shyilia is here of her own free will,” Dorian replied. “She had a choice, and she chose Galen. Like she said, her status as a slave in Tevinter has no bearing here in the south. If she wanted to leave, I’d have no power to stop her.”

_Not that that would stop most upper class ‘Vints,_ Bull thought to himself. _Or most slave hunters who might come looking for her._

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by Lavellan’s arrival.

“So if I’m to believe a Chantry brother I’ve never met before in my life,” he said, the amused look in his eyes showing that he didn’t believe the clerk one bit. “Dorian is out here stealing babies?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “The baby in question being my own brother.”

Lavellan’s eyes widened a fraction. “Your brother?” His eyes glanced over to Shyilia and Galen. “I don’t understand, why is he here? Surely Tevinter would be safer for him...”

“It isn’t.” Dorian’s voice was firm. “It’s a long story, but please, trust me.”

“And what of your parents?” Lavellan asked, “Are they... Around? And do they know he’s here?”

It was the other question on Bull’s mind, and Dorian glanced over to his brother with a conflicted expression before turning back to the boss. “They’re... Still in Tevinter. They don’t know that either I or Galen are here.”

“So... Wait.” Lavellan narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying that you _did_  steal him?”

“I rescued him!” Dorian replied angrily. “I’d rather not go over the details of just why I don’t want to see him raised in that household, so I ask you again: Please trust me.”

Lavellan took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face before letting it out in a huff. “Can you guarantee that him being here won’t cause your parents to retaliate against the Inquisition?”

“I can. Even if they hear that I’ve joined the Inquisition, they have no way of connecting my running away from them three years go to Galen’s more recent disappearance.”

“I’m the one more likely to be blamed, ser.” Shyilia suddenly spoke up. “It will be easier for them to pin this on a runaway slave, and unlike Dorian, my presence in Haven isn’t noteworthy enough for word to reach Tevinter.”

Bull smiled inwardly at the woman’s cleverness. With Shyilia labelling herself as a runaway slave, Dorian was painted less as the Evil ‘Vint who brought a slave with him to the south, and more as a refugee who also helped a woman _escape_ slavery. Hell, as far as Bull could tell, that was more accurate.

It seemed that Lavellan believed it as well. “All right. We’ll keep quiet about this, and I’ll convince that Chantry clerk to keep his mouth shut, too. Just... Be careful about who hears about him.”

“I can help with that.” Bull spoke up. “I have Ben-Hassrath contacts all over the place. I can have them keep an ear out for any rumours surrounding the Pavus family. If this gets out, I’ll know. Red can probably do the same with her own spies.”

To say that Dorian and Shyilia looked relieved was an understatement. Lavellan seemed satisfied, as well.

“All right.” He nodded. “Dorian, I’ll talk to you about this in more detail later. For now, I need to track down that Chantry clerk.”

Lavellan left, and Bull felt it was time to make his own exit. “I’d better go get started on those letters to my Tevinter contacts. You three take care.”

Dorian nodded his farewell as Shyilia moved Galen from her breast to her shoulder to burp him. Bull gave them a wave, then left the way he’d come.

As far as he could tell, the ‘Vints were being honest. They were hiding details, sure, but Bull would have wagered that those details weren’t going to become dangerous later. It was more likely that they were hiding something too personal to share with near strangers. An abusive household, most likely, though Bull didn’t know enough to guess what form that abuse took.

In any case, they both obviously cared for Galen, and wanted to keep the kid safe. Bull had no problem helping them do just that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galen's presence at Haven doesn't come without it's fair share of questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to Elthadriel for beta-reading!

            Dorian stepped into the war room nervously. Lavellan was there with his advisors, whom Dorian had only met briefly when he’d first arrived at Haven.

            “I assume you know why I asked you here?” Lavellan asked.

            Dorian nodded. “You wish to discuss Galen.”

            “The Herald already filled us in on what you told him,” Cullen said. “But to ensure your brother’s safety, as well as that of the Inquisition, we’ll need to know more.”

            Dorian sighed. “I... I understand your concerns, but _you_ must understand that a lot of the details are quite... personal.”

            “Of course.” Josephine gave him a soft look. “And we’ll respect that as much as we can. Nothing you tell us will be leaving this room, and I promise that all of our questions relate only to safety concerns.”

            Dorian looked at each of them in turn. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted all of them – the only ones he could honestly say that he _knew_ were Lavellan and Cassandra, who’d been with him in Redcliffe. But even with them, he wasn’t sure of more than that he could trust them to watch his back in battle.

            Still, he didn’t have much choice. If he wanted them to trust him, he’d have to do the same in return.

            He leaned against the war table and nodded. “Very well. What do you wish to know?”

            Most of their questions were simple enough: Where he’d been before he took Galen, how they’d escaped Tevinter, anyone they encountered who might have been able to connect him to the boy’s disappearance.

            “Shyilia and Galen tended to stay behind whenever I dealt with merchants and the like,” Dorian explained. “We boarded the ship separately and barely spoke, acting as strangers until we were in the south, and well away from the docks. There’s only one encounter that could potentially link me to them. I had an amulet, a birthright, that I sold to buy passage to the south. It’s directly linked to House Pavus, and was traded for three tickets south. I have kept information on that merchant, if needed. I’d planned to buy the amulet back once I had the means to.”

            “Give me all that you have on that merchant once we’re done here,” Leliana told him. “We’ll track him down and make sure he’s told no one... And never will in the future.”

            Vaguely terrified, Dorian nodded.

            “We’ll also need an idea of what kind of retaliation we can expect from your parents if they discover that Galen and Shyilia are here,” Cullen said.

            “My mother has never left the comforts of Tevinter, and I doubt she will now. My father, on the other hand...” Dorian looked down at the table, piecing together everything that could be useful. “He’s a powerful mage, of course, but he’d be much more likely to attack us politically. Even the South would take a Magister’s side if he accused the Inquisition of harbouring someone who kidnapped his child.”

            “But isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?” Lavellan asked. “I hate to say it, Dorian, but you _did_ kidnap Galen, regardless of your reasoning for it. I want to trust you, especially after everything we went through together in Redcliffe, but...”

            He trailed off, and Dorian felt the energy in the room get tense.

            “I...” He started, not entirely sure what he could say to that. He wasn’t ready to share everything that had happened to him, yet: The years of shame, the confinement, the attempt at blood magic... Perhaps he never would be ready to share that. But how else would he explain that when he’d first laid eyes on his brother he’d been struck by such an intense desire to protect him that he’d had no other choice but to take him away from there?

            “I only want him to be safe,” he finally said. “Can you at least trust that?”

            Something in his voice must have rang true to them. They glanced at each other, silently communicating, before Josephine nodded and turned back to him, her eyes soft and warm. “We have no more desire to put a child back into an abusive household than you do. If your father does make his presence here public, we’ll handle it.”

            Dorian just barely managed not to flinch at the word ‘abusive’. He knew it was accurate, knew that that was indeed what made him so afraid to leave Galen with his father, but to hear the word said out loud... But it was the truth, and more importantly, the heads of the Inquisition were on his side. “Thank you.”

            Cullen gave him a brief nod. “You’re dismissed for now, then. But if you could let Shyilia know that we’d like to speak with her as well... We just need to verify her side of the story.”

            “Of course.” Dorian nodded. Likely they wanted to verify that she was indeed here of her own free will. They might trust his intentions with Galen, but it was only natural that they’d still be suspicious of his intentions with a former slave. Luckily, Dorian had nothing to hide in regards to her.

~*~

            Babies didn’t really _do_ much, as Dorian was quick to discover.

            When Galen wasn’t eating, burping, or soiling himself, he simply slept.

            “Is it normal for babies to sleep so much?” He mused out loud, rocking the boy in his arms.

            “I’m not so sure.” Naturally, Solas would have been the one to overhear him. Dorian suddenly regretted taking the boy outside for fresh air. “Why not ask your slave?”

            Dorian sighed. “Shyilia isn’t my slave, Solas.”

            “Of course, my mistake,” Solas sneered, stepping into Dorian’s line of sight. “She’s your _family’s_ slave. Because that makes such a big difference, at the end of the day.”

            “She _was_ my family’s slave,” Dorian corrected. “I’m not sure why that past tense is so difficult for everyone to grasp.”

            “Perhaps because she’s still serving you and your brother, despite no longer being in Tevinter. So tell me, how is she no longer a slave?”

            “Oh, I don’t know.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “There’s the fact that she chose to come with us. Voluntarily. Out of her own free will.”

            “So you keep saying.” Solas frowned.

            “And if you were to ask her, she would say the same!” Dorian replied. “I’m not sure what more you want from me. Shall I go back to Tevinter now and burn her contract?”

            “It would be a start.”

            Dorian gaped at him. “You’re actually serious? Yes, let’s waste time destroying a contract that has no legal standing here! That sounds like an excellent use of Inquisition resources! Much more important than closing the breach!”

            “And when the breach is closed?” Solas asked. “When the culprit is found, and the Inquisition is no longer needed, and can no longer offer her protection? What are your plans for then?”

            “I...” Dorian hesitated. “I don’t know.”

            “I see. So you didn’t plan that far ahead.”

            “Alright, so I didn’t!” Dorian snapped. “Is that what you want to hear? I’d barely had a plan to come South to start with, and bringing Galen and Shyilia with me wasn’t originally a part of it.” He sighed. “How do you even know about them?”

            “Your argument with the Chantry clerk this morning wasn’t exactly discreet. The Iron Bull wasn’t the only one to overhear you.”

            “Wonderful.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “So much for keeping things quiet.”

            “If discretion is your goal, then why not keep your distance from them?” Solas asked. “Surely that would arouse less suspicion, wouldn’t it?”

            “Galen is my _brother_ ,” Dorian replied, his arms tightening around the child. “And Shyilia is my friend. As much as I trust her with his care, I can’t be expected to just... Never see them.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought perhaps that their safety would be more important to you than sentimentality.”

            Dorian opened his mouth, a scathing reply on the tip of his tongue, but then paused.

            It wasn’t _just_ sentimentality; Galen was his responsibility. And while Shyilia had indeed volunteered to help with his care, it would be unfair to ask her to become his sole caretaker.

            But at the same time, Solas was _right_. If word of his presence in the Inquisition spread to his father, and that word included him spending time with a baby and a runaway slave, it would only put them in danger.

            “Would it be so easy for you?” He finally asked.

            To his surprise, he saw a flicker of sympathy on the elf’s face. “I... suppose not.”

            An awkward silence followed while it looked like Solas was debating on whether he should apologise or not. He was saved from his decision when Galen woke with a cry and a foul smell.

            Dorian wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. If you’ll excuse me, I have a smelly baby to change.”

            He savoured the look of surprise on Solas’s face as he ducked into the small shack he now shared with Shyilia. It wasn’t much – two beds, a crib, and a hearth – but it was better than many of the places they’d been forced to stay in during their journey south over the past few weeks.

~*~

            With Galen secured to his chest in a sling, Dorian brought his soiled garments out to be laundered.

            If he could track down where laundry was to be done, that was.

            He ended up in the training yard, figuring that if anyone knew where to bring soiled laundry, it would be sweaty soldiers. Most of them were busy training, but a quick glance around found The Iron Bull and his lieutenant taking a break.

            Dorian wasn’t quite sure what to make of Bull. While his first instinct with a self professed Qunari spy was to antagonise him, he felt he at least owed Bull the benefit of the doubt. The man came across as loud and brutish, but he’d defended Dorian that morning, and seemed far more perceptive than most gave him credit for.

            He didn’t realise he was staring until Bull caught his eye and smirked. Dorian held back a flush, and approached him. “Sorry for interrupting your break. I was wondering if Haven has facilities for laundry, or if not, where the best place to do our own would be.”

            “Oh, right.” Bull seemed a bit disappointed. “Yeah, there’s a group of Chantry sisters who do it. They’re set up over by the river.”

            Dorian nodded. “Thank you.”

            “On diaper duty, huh?” Bull teased, nodding towards the wrapped bundle of clothing Dorian was carrying.

            He let out a chuckle. “Ah, yes, I usually am.”

            “Don’t see a lot of Altus getting their hands dirty like that.” Bull’s lieutenant commented. Dorian recognised a soporati accent, and couldn’t blame the man for the assumption.

            “I’ll admit, I was reluctant at first,” Dorian said. “It’s certainly not the most pleasant job. But with his nurse taking care of _everything_ whenever I’m away, I felt it only fair to do my part when I _am_ around.”

            The soporati seemed vaguely impressed, though still suspicious. “Most wouldn’t bother.”

            Dorian barked out a laugh. “Most wouldn’t have left Tevinter in the first place; I aim to surprise.”

            The other man motioned towards Galen questioningly. “There were a lot of rumours when you got here, but none of them mentioned you having a kid.”

            Dorian glanced at Bull, who nodded. “You can trust Krem. Or any of my boys, so long as they know it’s something they aren’t supposed to spread.”

            Trusting Bull’s judgement (And when had _that_ become so automatic?), Dorian gave him an answering nod and turned back to Krem. “My brother,” he explained. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that we’re runaways.”

            Krem narrowed his eyes, probably wondering what an Altus would ever need to run away from. But then Bull nudged him and he sighed, muttered something about stubborn Qunari under his breath, and rolled his eyes. “Alright. I guess I know a thing or two about long stories. And if the Chief vouches for you, you’re probably not _that_ bad.”

            Dorian held back a laugh. “You’re soporati, yes? Out of everyone at Haven, you’re probably the only one here who’d be justified in hating me on sight, so don’t let me stop you on that account. All I ask is that word of my brother’s presence here doesn’t spread to my father.”

            “Deal,” Krem agreed, starting to extend his hand as if to shake before his eyes fell on the bundle of cloth Dorian still held. He pulled his hand back quickly.

            “Ah, yes, I should probably get to that,” Dorian said with a wince. “I thank you again for your assistance, gentlemen.”

            He gave them a small bow before turning to make his way to the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like not a lot happened in this chapter? But it's all stuff that I felt needed to be aired out.
> 
> Also appologies to Solas fans. I'm still not sure if I made him too harsh, but he tends to come across as a bit of an ass to Dorian in their early party banter (even when making perfectly legit points), so him being overly critical here didn't seem TOO far fetched.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The breach is closed, and celebrations are under way... At least until an Archdemon interupts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience! The holiday season kept me busy, but I haven't forgotten about this fic. :)
> 
> Thank you again to Elthadriel for beta reading!

            Shyilia was going to scream if she had to explain to one more person that she was no longer, in fact, a slave.

            It wasn’t that she could blame people for making the assumption. She was accompanying a Tevinter Altus Mage, after all, and why else would an elf help someone like him if she wasn’t his slave? But even after Josephine came up with a cover story for her (She and Galen were from Nevarra, not Tevinter, and just happened to meet Dorian during his journey South, and they became fast friends), she still occasionally found herself pulled aside by a concerned villager or Chantry sister, asking her if she ‘really was alright’.

            Then there were the ones who thought that she and Dorian were _lovers_ , and that Galen was their bastard child. Those rumours, at least, she could easily deflect, even without revealing Dorian’s preferences. Telling people that she was recently widowed and not ready to move on, even with a friend as good as Dorian, was usually enough to derail the conversation.

            The Herald’s inner circle were told the truth, as well as a few other trusted individuals, such as the Bull’s Chargers. Most of _them_ , at least, believed her when she told them that she was helping Dorian and Galen by choice. The Herald himself still seemed suspicious, as did Solas, but at least they weren’t voicing their suspicions out loud.

            Eventually, Dorian began receiving a stipend from the Inquisition, and that afternoon she found a pouch on her pillow containing a small amount of coin. When she asked Dorian about it, he winced.

            “I know it’s not much,” he said. “Josephine says my own stipend will likely increase as the Inquisition grows, as will the bonus she included for family expenses. I wasn’t sure how much that was, so I just split what I got in half. That seemed like a fair way of going about it.”

            “But...” Shyilia shook her head. “Your share is meant to cover things like equipment and weapons, isn’t it?”

            “No, actually, though I originally thought it did, as well. Apparently Lavellan himself outfits his field team, and any books I need for my research are covered by the requisitions office. It’s fine, really.”

            She looked down again into the pouch of coins. Like Dorian had said, it wasn’t much, and some of it was to cover expenses for Galen, of course – he’d had a growth spurt last week, and needed new cloths, for one thing – but having grown up in poverty, and getting into debt so badly she’d needed to sell herself into slavery, it was more than she’d had in a long time.

            “Thank you,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

            “Think nothing of it. Go buy yourself something nice. I know _I_ plan to. Lavellan will be attempting to close the breach tomorrow, and I, for one, plan on attending the celebrations in a new outfit! I’m thinking Galen and I should get something matching. What do you think?”

            Shyilia rolled her eyes. “I think you’re doing very badly at the whole ‘pretending you’re not related to him’ thing.”

~*~

            While Dorian felt that the celebrations for closing the breach were a bit premature – they still needed to track down who was responsible, after all, likely this elusive “Elder One” that the Venatori followed – he had to admit that he was tempted to participate.

            He sat on the stone steps, bouncing Galen on his lap and watching the drinking and dancing longingly. It wasn’t that he _minded_ watching Galen while everyone else partied; he’d been the one to encourage Shyilia to go join in the celebrations, after all. He just... wasn't used to sitting things out.

            “What do you think?” He asked Galen. “Should we perhaps find another party more to your liking? Perhaps one with toys you can either ignore or drool on?”

            Galen’s reply was to make a blubbering noise and to stick his fist in his mouth.

            “Quite right!” Dorian nodded. “Any party for children around here is likely organised by the Chantry, and therefore unfathomably boring.”

            “Y’know, I don’t think anyone’ll believe that you two ain’t related,” a voice behind him said.

            He turned to see Sera coming down the stairs. “As I’ve already told Solas, I can’t just stop spending time with him.”

            She snorted and waved her hand before sitting next to him. “I don’t mean that piss, and really screw anything _Solas_ says. I just meant that the pup looks like you. Well, you with chubby baby cheeks and no moustache, anyway. Is that just luck, or is it like everyone says and nobles all look the same ‘cause you’re all related?”

            He laughed. “In this case, I’d say mostly luck. Oh, there’s a ton of inter-marrying among nobility, don’t get me wrong, and my own family certainly isn’t immune. But my mother and father look nothing alike, and Galen and I just both happen to take after our father.”

            “Right,” Sera huffed. “No fun to tease when you just admit it.”

            “What was it you called Galen?” He asked, changing the subject. “Pup?”

            “Yeah, yeah, it’s the Ferelden in me showing. Have a laugh.”

            “I’m not laughing,” he assured her. “Just curious.”

            She gave him a questioning look, then shrugged. “Fereldens like dogs, so sometimes we call kids ‘pup’ or ‘puppy’. Not much more to it than that. Orlesians like to make fun, as if they’re any less weird.”

            “There are certainly stranger things for a country to be known for. Like blood magic, slavery, and murder, for example.”

            “It’s like you lot won the evil lottery or somethin’.” Sera shook her head. “How d’y’all survive long enough to _make_ babies, anyway?”

            “I wonder that myself, sometimes,” Dorian chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, Tevinter has its good side, but there’s a lot to fix, too.”

            “Could use a Jenny or two.”

            Dorian winced. “I think they’d be killed within a matter of days, to be honest.”

            Sera laughed. “Oh, we know how to keep ourselves alive, trust me. You’re just afraid that we’ll nick your breeches. But don’t worry, we don’t go after kids. Your pup’ll be fine.”

            Dorian smiled down at Galen, who’d grown tired of trying to eat his hand, and was now reaching for his brother’s face. Dorian kept him just out of reach.

            “I love you, little brother, but you are _not_ touching my moustache with a hand covered in drool.”

            Sera let out a high pitched giggle. “I just pictured it.”

            “I know you did.”

            He spotted Shyilia in the crowd, just then, and smiled as she approached.

            “Having fun?”

            She huffed a laugh and sat on his other side. “A bit too much, to be honest. I haven’t danced that much in almost a year. I think I’m ready to turn in for the night. I’ll take Galen, if you wanted to spend time celebrating.”

            “Are you sure?” Dorian asked. “If you’re tired, I really don’t mind watching him while you rest.”

            She shrugged. “It’s almost time for him to eat anyway. Go on and have fun.”

            He handed Galen over, and Sera pulled him up. “Come on by the tavern. Bull was lookin’ for you earlier.”

            He flushed at her tone of voice, but followed her. “He... was? What for?”

            “I think you know,” she teased. “I’ve seen you lookin’ his way, too.”

            “I...” He hesitated. Sera didn’t make her own desires for women a secret, so surely she wasn’t judging, but old habits were still rather hard to break. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

            “Pft, oh please, is that another posh noble thing? Can’t be seen flirting with the big bad Qunari? Well, stuff what the nobles think. If there were any Qunari women here, I wouldn’t even hesitate.” She let out a breathy giggle. “D’you think they’re as tall as he is? And all buah and muscles and shite?”

            “From my experience, even most Qunari _men_ aren’t as tall and muscular as the Bull.” He informed her. “But I’ve met the occasional Tal-Vashoth woman. They’re certainly still a good head taller than most humans, and they do tend to fall on the muscular side.”

            Sera’s eyes had glazed over in a dreamy expression. “Woof.”

            Dorian thought to ask Sera if that was really all anyone here would care about – that Bull was Qunari, and not that they were both men. He'd heard that the South was more lenient about such things... But then they arrived at the tavern and he decided to save the question for another time.

            He’d only just pushed the door open and located Bull when he heard Haven’s warning bells begin to toll.

            He froze, his eyes meeting Bull’s while next to him Sera began cursing. From outside, he heard Cullen shouting about forces approaching.

            Bull sprung to his feet far faster than you’d expect someone of his size to move, the Chargers only a breath behind him. By the time it took Dorian’s mind to catch up, they were pushing past him to get out the door.

            Bull paused and glanced back at him. “You coming?”

            “I...” He hesitated, then looked out to the stairs he’d been sitting on not a minute ago. They were empty. “Galen and Shyilia. They were right there...”

            “Go.” Bull nodded. “They probably headed home. I’ll let the boss know.”

            “Right.” The words snapped him out of his hesitation, prompting him to finally just _move_.

            He split up from the Chargers and Sera, who headed – Dorian wasn’t sure, probably the front gate, and hurried in the direction of his room.

            He looked around as he ran, glancing into some of the public buildings on the way in case Shyilia had ducked into the closest one upon hearing the bells. Not seeing them there, or among the many panicked faces around him, he continued on.

            He arrived at their room to find it empty, and cursed. Had he missed them? He hadn’t searched _every_ public building, or course, or maybe someone had offered them shelter in a private room... Or maybe they went into the Chantry?

            _Or maybe they’re hurt, somewhere out of sight where no one can see them..._

            “Shyilia!” He called out, worry eating at him more strongly now.

            The empty room didn’t answer, drawing another curse from Dorian as he went back outside.

            Down by the trebuchets, he thought he heard cheering. Perhaps the attack was over?

            His answer came in the form of a dragon.

            Dorian’s eyes widened as flames erupted far too close to him for comfort. He backed away quickly from his room, watching the walls catch fire, and he was suddenly glad that Galen _hadn’t_ been inside.

            How in the world was this army controlling a _dragon_?

            _Not just a dragon_ , his inner academic informed him as he watched it. _That’s an Archdemon. Because things aren’t bad enough, apparently._

            _Galen_ , he reminded himself, _Find Galen and Shyilia, and_ then _worry about the fact that there’s an Archdemon, of all things, attacking._

            The Chantry. That was the most logical place to hide from most enemies, especially one as large as that. And if they weren’t there...

            Well, then Dorian would just have to go out and scour Haven to find them.

            He willed his legs to move, and was glad to see the Inquisition’s soldiers had had the same idea as him, and were directing the panicking crowd towards the Chantry doors. Dorian scanned the faces, growing desperate with each that he didn’t recognise.

            When he entered the Chantry himself, he flagged down one of the guards. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Elven woman, dark skin and hair, she’d have a baby with her. Have you seen her?”

            The guard shook her head, “I’m sorry, ser, but there’s been so many people...”

            “Dorian!”

            He almost collapsed in relief at the voice. He turned to see Shyilia pushing through the crowd to get to him, Galen crying but safe against her shoulder.

            “What’s going on?” She asked. “I hid in here when I heard the warning bells, but now people are talking about a dragon?”

            Instead of answering, Dorian reached out for Galen. Shyilia handed the boy over without a word, and Dorian clutched him to his chest tightly. Already upset, Galen let out a rather large scream at being separated from Shyilia, but quickly recognised his brother and returned to his previous level of crying.

            “I’ve got you,” Dorian whispered gently. “Shh, I know. I know it’s scary. But I’m here, and Shyilia’s here, and we’ll protect you.”

            _If we can._ He wasn’t sure what any of them could do if that dragon really was an Archdemon, though perhaps Blackwall would know. But Dorian would make damn sure that Galen was out of the line of fire.

            “Dorian?” Shyilia prompted again, and he glanced up at her, remembering that she didn’t know what was going on.

            “An Archdemon,” he answered, still barely believing it himself. It had only been ten years since the previous Blight, after all. “The dragon is an Archdemon.”

            Shyilia paled, and as she took in the information, Dorian noticed that Cullen, Lavellan and the rest of his inner circle had come in, as well as a young man Dorian didn’t recognise in an absurdly large hat, who was helping an injured Chancellor Roderick.

            Dorian wandered closer, catching the tail end of the conversation.

            “...The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche.” Cullen was saying. “We could turn the remaining trebuchet, cause one last slide.”

            “We’re overrun.” Lavellan pointed out. “To hit the enemy, we’d burry Haven.”

            “This is not survivable, now.” Cullen’s voice had an air of finality to it. “The only choice left is how spitefully we end this.”

            “Well, that’s not acceptable!” Dorian interrupted angrily. “I didn’t bring Galen all the way here just for you to drop rocks on his head!”

            Cullen shook his head. “Should we submit? Let this Elder One kill us?”

            Dorian narrowed his eyes and took a step into Cullen’s space. “Dying is typically a last resort. Not first. For a Templar, you think like a blood mage!”

            Cullen looked like he had more to say, but then the strange young man with the hat spoke up.

            “Yes, that...” His voice was soft, and Dorian was surprised anyone had heard him over the arguing and crying baby. “Chancellor Roderick can help! He wants to say it before he dies.”

            Roderick nodded. “There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’ve made the summer pilgrimage, as I have.” He stood up slowly, still holding his injured side. “The people can escape. She must have shown me... Andraste must have shown me so I c... could tell you.”

            “What are you on about, Roderick?” Lavellan asked.

            “It was whim that I walked the path... I did not mean to start, it was overgrown... Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers...” He let out a pained laugh. “I don’t know... If this simple memory can save us... This could be more than mere accident. _You_ could be more!”

            Lavellan looked away from Roderick, back to Cullen. “What about it, Commander? Will it work?”

            “Possibly,” Cullen nodded. “If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?”

            Lavellan didn’t answer, looking down, and the mood grew, if possible, even more sombre than before.

            “Perhaps you will surprise it,” Cullen suggested, not sounding like he believed the words himself. “Find a way.” He sighed and shook his head, then turned and marched over to two of the soldiers standing guard. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry. Move!”

            Dorian began to head back towards Shyilia as the young man with the hat lifted Roderick’s arm over his shoulder. But the Chancellor paused, turning to Lavellan. “Herald... If you are meant for this... If the Inquisition is meant for this... I pray for you.”

            A sympathetic look crossed Lavellan’s face. He might not have been Andrastrian, but that didn’t mean the sentiment meant nothing. Dorian hadn’t been at Haven long enough to know the full story, but he knew that Roderick was one of the Herald’s loudest critics. There was a history there, and Dorian felt like he was seeing its end.

            He turned away, then, as Cullen directed more soldiers to help Lavellan load the Trebuchets. Cassandra, Varric, and Solas were chosen to help him fight his way there, while the rest of the inner circle were sent with Roderick.

            “They’ll load the trebuchets.” He heard Cullen saying. “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line. If we are to have a chance, if _you_ are to have a chance... Let that thing hear you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, I'M AWFUL. This chapter was super difficult to write, plus life in general happening. X_x And then it should have actually gone up, like, a month ago when my beta gave it back to me, but I forgot about it in the wake of Convention Weekend Rush.
> 
> And to top it all off, it's short. *hides*
> 
> A million thank yous to Elthadriel for beta reading.

It was cold.

The South was always cold, of course, it was one of Dorian’s favourite complaints about it, but this was far beyond his usual whining. This was night in the snowy mountains with barely any shelter as scouting parties hopelessly searched for Lavellan. It was the type of cold that caused people to die from exposure.

And he’d had no choice but to drag his baby brother into it.

Galen wasn’t the only child there, of course. Dorian spotted a number of families with young children huddled under the few tents someone had had the foresight to bring. The winds were still too strong to safely build a fire, but the tents allowed some reprieve for the more vulnerable.

Dorian couldn’t justify taking up space in a tent for himself, but had made sure that Shyilia and Galen were settled in as well as they could be, and checked on them regularly. Probably too regularly, if he had to be honest with himself. After the tenth or so time he’d stuck his head into the tent and gotten an ‘all clear’ wave from Shyilia, he felt a large hand settle on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Bull said. “Sitting around and worrying isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It’s not like there’s much else to do,” Dorian replied, but allowed Bull to lead him away.

“The winds are dying down a bit,” he said with a shrug. “The Commander was talking about sending more people out to look for the boss. And you’ll be warmer if you keep moving.”

They quietly joined the search party. Dorian tried to keep his mind focused on the task of finding Lavellan, but his thoughts kept slipping back to Galen and the very real danger he was in.

 _If he dies here, it’s my fault._

That was the heart of the issue, really. After everything he’d done to protect Galen from their father and all the dangers of Tevinter, he’d ended up putting him in even _worse_ danger by bringing him here. At least in their father’s care, he didn’t risk literally freezing to death!

The wind and snow did eventually die down, though it was colder than ever. When they returned to camp, a large fire had been lit, and Dorian noticed that Shyilia was among those who’d huddled near it for warmth.

His breath caught in his throat when she caught his eyes with a look of concern. Hurrying to her side, he looked down at Galen, who was clinging to her shirt and whimpering as she gently bounced him. His skin had taken on a bright red hue that immediately filled Dorian with dread.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“It’s... He’s a bit better now, but I... I had some trouble waking him when I went to feed him earlier, and then his skin started getting red like this...” 

Dorian’s mouth went dry as the feeling of dread settled more securely in his gut. He took a deep breath as an attempt to settle his nerves, but instead, the biting cold air against his teeth and throat just managed to remind him that even _breathing_ was painful in this wretched weather.

  
“ _Kaffas!_ ”

“I’ve already spoken to the healers,” she said. “They say it’s because of the cold and the damp from the cave earlier...” Her eyebrows drew together and she took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, he’s always been such a good sleeper that I didn’t even think it odd that he’d been sleeping so long...”

“It’s not your fault,” Dorian was quick to say. “He’s _my_ responsibility, I should have...” He trailed off, not so sure of what he ‘should have’ done, beyond perhaps not interfering in Galen’s life in the first place. “Did the healers say anything else?”

“Just to keep him awake, keep him as warm and dry as we can, and to avoid sudden movements.”

Dorian nodded. “Alright. I’ll take him, now. You must be exhausted.”

Shyilia gave him a concerned look. “And you’re not?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “I doubt anything could get me to rest at this point. And I... I need to be with him.”

She finally nodded, unwrapped Galen’s harness, and gently transferred the boy to Dorian’s arms. Galen didn’t do much more than whimper at the motion, and Dorian hugged him tightly.

Shyilia moved to wrap Galen in the harness again, but Bull stepped into stop her. “It might be better to tuck him under your shirt, and to get him out of his damp cloths. Skin to skin contact helps to keep warm.

“I... never even thought of that,” Dorian admitted.

“It’s not something either of you would have learned in a hot climate like Tevinter,” Bull assured him.

Dorian just shook his head, but hurried to do as suggested, undoing the front buckles of his leathers to make room. Once Galen was settled, Dorian redid the buckles more loosely to help hold him in place.

“I’ll come back when it’s time to feed him.” Shyilia said, then made her way to one of the tents.

Dorian turned towards the fire, his body blocking the wind. He bounced slowly as Shyilia had been doing, rubbing Galen’s back and speaking softly to him. It was mostly nonsense, just words to keep Galen focused on him and awake, but he couldn’t help but slip in apologies as he did. 

Bull stepped closer to him, his brow drawn in concern. “Hey...”

Dorian shook his head. “I should never have brought him here.”

“Like you had any way of knowing an Archdemon would attack Haven.”

“That’s not the point!” Dorian argued. “I brought him here to _protect_ him! And now...”

“Now... what? You think you’ve failed at that?” Bull asked.

“Haven’t I? If he dies here...” Dorian’s voice faltered a moment. “He’s just a baby.”

“I know.” Bull put his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. The weight of it felt grounding in a way no words could be.

“He’s just a baby, and I put him in danger!” Dorian insisted.

“ _You_ didn’t. That Elder One asshole did.”

Dorian wanted to argue. He wanted to cry, to _scream_ : What was the difference when the end result was the same?

Instead, he shut his eyes and clung to Galen tighter. Nothing else mattered other than him getting better.

Bull shifted, and Dorian suddenly found himself surrounded by warm Qunari arms. He opened his eyes to see Bull’s chest inches in front of him, carefully holding him without crushing Galen.

“Qunari body temperature tends to run hotter than humans,” Bull explained. “I figure it couldn’t hurt.”

“I...” Dorian choked out. “Thank you.”

He rested his forehead against Bull’s chest, and if Bull noticed him start to cry, he didn’t say anything.

~*~

It wasn’t much later that a commotion alerted them both to the fact that Lavellan had been found.

A quick glance down confirmed that Galen hadn’t gotten any worst – in fact, the red of his skin had faded a bit. It wasn’t gone completely, but he looked better than he had only an hour earlier. While Dorian wasn’t about to let his guard down, it was a good sign.

Bull watched without comment, then glanced over Dorian’s head at someone. “Hey Krem! Do you mind checking to see how the boss is doing?”

“Bit busy, are you?” Came Krem’s teasing voice from nearby.

“Heeeyyy!” Bull directed a pout in his lieutenant’s direction. “I’m helping to keep his kid brother warm. No shenanigans, I promise.”

“There’s always shenanigans going on with you, Chief!” Krem replied as his voice started to move away.

“You watch that back talk, Krem-de-la-Creme!” Bull shouted back.

Dorian found himself chuckling a bit, despite the situation. Bull smiled fondly down at him. “There we go. I was getting a bit worried about you.”

“About _me_?” Dorian asked incredulously. “I’m not...”

“You might not be as vulnerable as the kid, but _he_ at least has people watching out for him.”

“I don’t need someone to watch out for me,” he protested, looking down, though there was no heat to his words.

“Everyone needs that every once and a while,” Bull insisted.

“Even you?”

“Fuck, especially me,” Bull laughed. “With all the shit I’ve seen? But I’ve got my boys. You don’t have anyone.”

“Shyilia and I look after each other,” Dorian said, though it didn’t quite feel true.

“You seem like good enough friends, but... It all seems a bit professional, to me. The Chargers might work for me, but we’re all informal enough that we can talk shit to each other, too. Even if we retired from being mercenaries, we’d probably still stick around each other. With you two... You’re both focused on the kid; He’s the only thing keeping your friendship together. It’s not a bad thing, but it does mean that you’d do well to have friends outside of each other, too.”

“Are you volunteering?” Dorian asked, only half serious.

“Sure. If you want. I think Sera and Varric, too, if you let them in – I noticed you drink with them sometimes. Maybe even the boss, eventually.”

Dorian laughed bitterly. “I’ll give you Sera and Varric, but I don’t think Lavellan likes me very much.”

“He’s not very trusting towards humans, I’ll admit, but give him reason to trust you, and I think he’ll come around. Eventually. And after tonight, I’m sure he could use friends, too.”

Krem came back around just then, as if summoned, and informed them that Lavellan was unconscious, but alive, and had healers looking after him. The news lifted a weight Dorian didn’t even know was there, and he found himself relaxing just that little bit more.

~*~

The morning, to their luck, brought much needed warmth. Though the temperature was still below freezing, it was only barely, and the healers informed Dorian that it was safe for Galen to sleep, so long as they kept him warm and dry. Having actually rested some, Shyilia had taken over watch of him.

Lavellan had recovered well, and under his guidance the camp packed up and followed him and Solas through the mountains. It wasn’t an easy trek, tired as Dorian was, but having a goal, even if it was an unknown one, managed to renew his spirit.

Bull followed closely next to him. Sleep deprivation made Dorian bold enough to ask something that had been on his mind since he’d met the Qunari.

“Why have you been so nice to me?”

Bull glanced at him in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’m a ‘Vint,” Dorian answered. “And a mage. Shouldn’t you want me bound and leashed?”

“I’d buy you dinner first.”

The implications in the reply made Dorian stop short for a second, and he let out a chuckle before quickening his pace to catch up. “Hopefully before you sewed my mouth shut.”

“Depends how much you keep yapping.” Though the words sounded harsh, Bull said them with a grin that told Dorian he was joking. “But seriously, whether I hate you or not depends on your actions, not where you’re from. And so far, you’ve been alright.”

“But I...” Dorian frowned. “Is it really so simple?”

“Not always,” Bull admitted with a grunt, “but I’m pretty good at reading people.”

Dorian shook his head, a grin pulling at his lips. “And to think, here I was prepared for us to bait each other on the various stereotypes of our respective people until we eventually came to blows.”

“Well, hey, if you still _want_ to go that direction, we can. _I’m_ not going to judge you on how you like your foreplay.”

Dorian felt his face heat up. “Honestly,” he scoffed. 

Before Bull could reply, they heard a commotion up ahead. They shared a quick glance, then let curiosity draw them to catch up with Lavellan and Solas.

A crowd of refugees had already gathered at the top of the next hill, and they were all whispering excitedly. Dorian spotted Shyilia among them, Galen tucked peacefully in her coat, and she waved him over when she saw him.

“Look!” She urged him, pointing ahead.

Climbing the last few feet, he looked over the edge of the hill and felt his breath catch in his throat.

On the horizon loomed a large castle. It rose up out of the frozen mountains, partially shrouded by low clouds. It looked like something out of a children’s storybook. 

And all around them, the whispers were getting louder as the name spread among the refugees.

“Skyhold.” 


End file.
